Primitive Instincts
by Half Awake Warning
Summary: Immortal and mortal, purpose and coincidence, right and wrong. Sometimes the boundaries are crossed, and the only thing worth knowing is that you know nothing. But sometimes you have to sacrifice your dream, so that the one you love can love another. Loc
1. Prologue

                                    **    Primitive Instincts **

                                    By Half Awake Warning

**Summary:** Behind every good man there is a woman; behind every good woman is a child. And behind every good child is a dream. But when you have to give your dream to another, will you be able give up their love as well? 

Love is hard enough between mortal and immortal, but when two are separated by good and evil, by right and wrong, by coincidence and purpose, there is no chance. When you have to give up your dream, will you be able to live?                             

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings, and I never have done. I could not have created this amazing phenomenon, and I don't think I could have survived if I did. Everything belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, besides the plot and any characters that you do not recognize. 

**Author's Note:** This story takes place before the War of the Ring at the end of the first age and is the story that will explore the difficulty of not only love, but the understanding that distinguishes coincidence from purpose, and right from wrong. It is a Legolas/oc fic, but please give it a chance.  

                                                **Prologue**

                                    First Instinct - Survival

'Run, keep on running. You have to run, you have to save her.' Words meant for self encouragement, words spelling out disaster, words speaking only the truth, run, run until you die.

How long had she been running? She couldn't remember, only that she had to keep on going. They couldn't find her with it; they'd kill her before she could save it. She must save it, she had to. The ground carried her further on, the wind behind her helping her flee from her pursuers. But her time was running out.

She was unaware how long she had left, or how far behind they were. The darkness swam in front of her eyes, the woman ran blind, with only her rapidly decreasing sense of direction keeping her on track. Her breath was ragged, gasping and spluttering for mercy. A bird screamed in the distance, and flew up through the trees, sending a shower of leaves from the sky. They were close now. 

The small bundle in her arms squirmed, hands reaching out in search of comfort. But they found none. The woman slowed down slightly to wrap her child tighter within the protection of the thin blankets that hugged the baby's body. 

Why had she let it come to this?

She was very young in human years, and too young for the responsibility of a child that she could not care for, no matter how much she wished. The child was more of a burden than an object of affection, whom she hated and loved, though she could not understand why. If only she had resisted temptation, and the horror of guilt. 

The woman laughed, remembering how she had gotten into this situation. It was purely her own fault, and my oh my was she paying back her debt now. She knew it would take her life eventually, but if she could only save the child so that her life was worth something and a part of her would live on. 

She was aware that her pace has slacked, try as hard as she might she could go no faster. So this was what it felt like to lose. The child whimpered in her arms, sensing her mothers fear. 

Her heart began to beat faster, the adrenaline rush driving her faster and faster, she became the blur of a shadow, running in and out of the trees. But she had been seen. 

She could hear the distant cracking of twigs, and the murmurings of voices, creeping up on her, as if she was crouched in the dark corner of a big room when someone taps you on the shoulder and you never knew that they were there. The shock ran thorough her veins, the fear of being caught pulsing on her mind. 

Her movements became disoriented; she started to stumble as her fear grew. She had abandoned all sense of direction, she just ran. 

'Run, keep on running. You have to run, you have to save her.' Words that no longer brought hope. Only death. 

The baby in her arms began to cry, she could sense her mothers fear, and felt the same in her own heart. The mother tried to soothe the child, but it was no use. It only brought tears of sorrow. There was no comfort to be found here. 

Deeper and deeper into the dark she ran, the moonlight obscured by the trees. And then it happened. The child fell from her arms, and cries of hurt and pain and terror filled the forest, now abandoned from running feet. 

"NO!" the woman cursed, and fell to her hands, searching for her child. She could hear the screams, but she could not reach her child. 

"Well, well, well, Namoire, 'tis a surprise to see you here." 

Namoire gulped, her breath caught in her throat. All was silent, the child no longer screaming. She looked up and saw him standing there, tall and proud. And dangerous. 

"You left me no choice," she spat, pulling herself up onto her feet, gasping for air and praying for hope. 

A cruel mocking laugh sang in her ears. "My dear, you would be surprised of how easy you've had it." A knife caught her throat, the sharp tip mocking her. 

She knew what was coming, she could hear her child screaming and crying for someone at her feet, and then she saw the man standing in front of her, dangerous, her life within a stroke of his luck. She threw all feelings aside, and stripped her mind down to basic instinct and primitive thoughts. Run. Save yourself. 

"It was never easy, not with you." She smiled one last time, and turned on her heel and ran into the shadows. The man laughed, she could have a head-start if she wished. 

A small movement at his feet brought his eyes down to the ground, and his heart softened slightly at the sight of his daughter, already hurt. She looked up at him with such innocence that it was shocking, and started to bite at him. He held the knife in his hand above his head, the baby watching him, not fully understanding of what her father would do. But to his own surprise he could not bring it down to end the young ones life, to tear her from this world and cast her into the darkness where she belonged. For she was cursed, she was his spawn, and she was born with his strengths but his weakness. For his weakness had brought him to where he was now, and he was sure that if she survived, it would lead her to him in the end. It was his purpose in life, and he would depend upon it. 

The baby gurgled and her hands clutched at his leg, pawing at him. He watched in fascination for a moment, before throwing the knife to the ground and bending down upon his knees. He stroked her dark hair, and her smooth skin, his callused hands leaving dirty imprints upon her face, causing her aggravation. 

"Be fair, my little moonflower, we will not be parted for long." He kissed her forehead delicately and then stood up. 

First he had a job to complete, and a life to take.

Pursuit was easy, but to catch his prey he would have to be cunning. He smiled inwardly as his feet pounded down on the forest floor, running as a beat of a steady drum. He could hear the slight breaking of twigs in the distance, the haggard breath of someone running for their life. But there was always a time when you could run no more. 

And Namoire would soon have no time left. He caught a glimpse of her, now still and bent double, exhausted and depleted of energy. She was not unlike a deer who had run so far to try and cheat the hungry predator that he no longer had the strength or the motive to go any further. 

He crept up behind her, pulling his sword from its sheath, ready to strike. He could hear her worthless words of encouragement that were wasted, she was trapped. She felt his breath, hot and sticky upon the back of her throat and spun around to meet his sword. 

Her body fell in a crumple to the ground, eyes that were filled with dread, a look that would never fade. He left her that way, so sure that she was dead and that a constant thorn in his side had been cast aside. But for a while she was still able to hear the world around her, and the last sound to grace her ears was that of her baby daughter, crying, now alone in a world of hatred and evil with no-one to watch over her. 


	2. Chapter One

**      Primitive Instincts **

                                                By Half Awake Warning

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings, and I never have done. I could not have created this amazing phenomenon, and I don't think I could have survived if I did. Everything belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, besides the plot and any characters that you do not recognize. 

**Author's Note:** Larne is pronounced Lar-nay. Thank-you to those that reviewed my first chapter, I am rather prone to writer's block but reviews are like medicine to my fault and help speed me along. :). Also I am looking for a beta-reader so if anyone would like to volunteer then E-mail or IM me – I love hearing from readers! 

                                                **Chapter 1 **

                                    **The Hours of Darkness **

She saw the smoke before they did. She could feel the anger and hatred before they did. She knew that death was coming before they did. The small child sighed, what was the point? She knew full well that her voice would not be heard by her peers or the big people. They did not take part in what had become 'Larne's silly games." They never took her seriously, even if she was only a small child not yet tainted by age or wisdom. She could only pray on her good fortune that the smoke would not tarnish her home.

It had been four years to the day that a woman out collecting fruit had stumbled upon a baby, a baby that she felt compelled to save for a stroke of bad luck and ill health would be placed upon her if she did not save one so innocent. However the human inhabitants of the village also held the belief that when one is an orphan, one is an ill omen of bad luck. 

And with Larne this had proved to be the case. Although she did not mean for such things to happen in her presence, things always went wrong when she was around. Maybe it was the humans' fear of her and the bad luck they felt she held, and in their attempts to get away from her they caused accidents which made things out to be far worse than they seemed. Maybe the child really was cursed, for some held the suspicion that an orphan is a bane to the earth and was being punished for a mistake in another world. 

Larne did not understand this, for although she held an inquisitive and quick mind, she was still young and had not the knowledge or experience to realise why people acted strange around her. She thought that nothing was wrong with her, even though she was different from the other children. She looked no different to them; instead everyone held focus to her past and the fact that she had no parents. Lavish stories had been fed to her mind; they told stories to her of the dreadful day that she arrived and how they were forced to bring her up and they had little choice on the matter. 

But despite the thought that she was a curse and was forced upon the village for failing harvests, the inhabitants treated her as one of their own. Strange as it may seem they also felt compelled to treat her well, and although it was not out of love or generosity, it was better than being treated as a curse all the time. 

Larne started humming to herself as she sat up in a tree, looking out over the sunset that was falling over the land. Soon it would be dark, and she would need to get back to the village. It was not unusual for her to wander off into the forest; she spent most of her time in solitude. This was the resultant factor that she thought she was better than those she lived with. She had forever been a tidy child always neat and careful about her appearance. When she had started becoming more independent yet was unsure of the reasons why people acted differently around her, she had feared that the reason was because she was dirty and so this cause had an effect on her state of mind. It had grew to an unhealthy obsession that everything needed to be perfect, from her clothes and appearance to the world around her. It would only later she found that everyone else around her did not take the same pride as she did in everything she would do. 

This obsession had been the reason she refrained from playing normal games with the others, as she did not want to be contaminated by them. She preferred to be with animals, making them perfect like her. Her lack of social skills with others was balanced out by something that had become very close to Larne's heart, her pet animal. It was a small creature that could fit quite comfortably in her pocket. It was covered in fur with four tiny feet, and had a small wet nose and big brown eyes. Larne didn't know what it was, so she called him her friend. She kept him a secret from the adults, for they would only ridicule her more if they found out she spent most of her day talking to an animal. 

He was snoring peacefully in her pocket as she hummed, she was picking up the pieces of wood that she had been playing with up in the tree, tidying up her mess. Larne checked that everything was the way it was when she had first arrived before climbing down the tree, rather hesitantly it might be said. 

As she walked home, she once again noticed the smoke that she had seen rising from the trees and shuddered, it was getting closer and closer. Maybe someone would listen to her this time; maybe they would understand what she did not. 

Worry of the smoke made the journey home quicker than usual. A small house on the outskirts of the village was where she resided with a couple who had tried to have children but had been unsuccessful. They were also viewed as bad luck by the villagers, although this was only in context and it seemed fitting that Larne should be adopted by them. The couple treated her well, and a good relationship was shared by the three. 

"You're late Larne," the female said as the child edged through the door. 

"It wasn't my fault, I saw something." Larne began, but she was cut off by the male. 

"What was it this time, hey?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he polished his boots. 

Larne resented the tone in his voice; they weren't going to listen to her words. She was making it up, like last time when the same thing had happened. She could remember that night as if it had happened only yesterday, the humiliation, the tears, and the embarrassment. Many had forgotten since, but the thought had been branded with fire in her mind, and still the flame had not been spent. 

"Nothing." She whispered. 

                                                x~X~x

Dinner that night was a silent affair, Larne kept her head down and her mouth shut. That way she couldn't get into trouble or be wrongly accused of a crime that she couldn't have committed, that way the trouble fell from her name. It was a tactic that she took upon herself with many things, locking everything away behind a locked door but eventually the strong barrier that she was hiding everything behind would eventually come crashing down like a waterfall bursting through a barrier of stone.

Larne didn't like water. It was an omen that she did not yet understand, like many things. No matter how grown up she pretended she was, there was no escaping the fact that she was a child, and that didn't credit for much.

In the dark, cold, silent hours of the night, Larne lay awake. Sleep would not come to her; her mind was too alert and full of fear. It felt like something she had felt before, but she didn't know where the feeling had come from. She wasn't even entirely sure whether she was awake, she could have been awake in a dream that she was having. Or maybe she was drifting on the border somewhere in the middle, a place where only the frightened lingered. 

But why was she frightened?

Larne didn't know. Not even a quick check on Friend had eased her mind, like it normally would. She lay huddled under her blankets, wishing that she could run next door into the safety of adult arms. But they wouldn't allow that, that was not something that her carers could provide. She needed what she didn't have, what she never would have. 

  
So she did the only thing that she could do safely under the covers of her bed, she asked the lord in the sky to protect her village and its inhabitants. She asked him to watch over the trees and the animals and to keep the smoke from clouding her home. A childish wish from a childish mind, but it was enough to convince Larne that everything would suffice and that no hurt would befall her world. 

But it wasn't long until the first sign that something was wrong fell upon the sleeping village. Screams pierced through the air. Terror spread like disease through the clouds. Smoke billowed up from the remains of a prosperous village, now corrupted and slowly burning by a great fire. The smoke had come. Metal clashed against soft, innocent skin. Fires burned and clawed for their meat, licking hungrily at the promised meal.

Larne felt strong arms lifting her from her bed, and squirmed in their grip. It took mere second for her eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did she was convulsed by fear. She was already outside the house, and was being carried towards the trees. She saw humans running, humans panicking, humans frightened. And then she saw humans killing, humans hurting, humans ruining. 

She watched as her adoptive parents ran back to the village, trying to do the little they could to try and save those still trapped, watched as they fought against this strange army of men, dirty and menacing. How her young eyes were reminded…

The memory came back to her in a flash of lightening, until all that she saw around her was burning and the only sounds were those of screams. Peril and darkness filled her senses, she could not escape the clutch of evil that had woven it's terror into her heart with silver steel and a black shadow. Someone running, someone trying to save something. Someone following, such hatred. 

She shook with tears and sobs as she came back to herself. She remembered the smoke. She remembered how she thought they wouldn't believe her, and how she had not warned them. It was all her fault. 

Larne fell into the quickest human emotion to react – denial. She wanted to run from the frenzy, from the death, from the terror. She reached into her pocket, and her heart stopped – her only friend wasn't there. 

Her logic fell to the floor, and all reason for running away abandoned her mind. She ran back to the slaughter. Her nightclothes were dirty, her hair in rats tails, she was loosing all sense of self. Larne had to find him. Smoke had washed over her home; it was slowly burning it to the ground. She covered her mouth with one hand, and used the other to push through the debris. Eyes watering, mouth choking, voice screaming but Larne didn't give up. In her mad attempt to reach her room, she fell over something on the floor that her eyes had missed. 

Scrambling to her feet, Larne ran the last stretch to her room unaware of the presence behind her. She threw her belongings aside searching for the box, her room had been slashed in search for life. She heard a small squeak coming from under her bed. Larne grabbed the wooden box and turned to run through the door. 

But someone was blocking the exit, and only one thing was on his mind. He had a job to do. Larne froze, her small body shaking. The sword in his hand had only one purpose in life, in that moment it was her blood. Her feet were stuck to the floor, she couldn't obey the one command her mind was screaming at her. 

'RUN!' 

Something in her heart brought life to her feet, with the box clutched to her chest, she darted between his legs and fled from the room. She heard the assassin growl in annoyance, sending her forth only faster. Dead bodies filled her sight, of children and adults alike, their blood spilled and their life quenched. The stench greeted her nose causing her to wretch, but she couldn't be caught. She ran further and further into the forest, towards the trees where she had spent her day only hours earlier. 

When she had reached the safety of the tree, her weary limbs lifted her up. She opened the box and rescued the only life that she had managed to save, her small furry pet. Her tears washed over the blood of his cuts and she clutched him to her chest, holding him as tight as she dared. He was all she had left now, because of her. Her bad luck had been the cause again, she had kept her mouth shut at a time when she should have spoken. 

Her wish had been unanswered, and her faith fell in all good with her innocence. Her smooth face that had once been clean and pure was now tainted with the blood of an entire village. 

"And it's all my fault!" She screamed as the smoke rose into the sky, and the screams of the dying choked her ears. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Primitive Instincts **

                                            By Half Awake Warning

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings, and I never have done. I could not have created this amazing phenomenon, and I don't think I could have survived if I did. Everything belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, besides the plot and any characters that you do not recognize. 

**Author's Note:** I would just like to say a massive thank-you to my reviewers, and all of your encouraging words! You bring a smile to my face :) – bless you all. This is just a short piece that is more to do with feelings than anything else and the puzzle of a child mind. It doesn't make much sense, I made it to come out the way it does – it's confusing and this reflects the raw emotions I think one would feel in such a situation. 

I don't know if you will understand the message, I barely do myself. 

The lyrics are taken from Evanescence's Haunted.

                                    **Chapter Two**

                        **Raw Emotions and Fragmented Dreams **

A dirty sun rose in a cloudy sky, a clouded child stumbled forth from the dirty remains of home, a silent breeze blew but nothing moved. Frozen.  All was lost, all hope, everything was gone. No-one left, not a soul – now completely alone. Alone, and cold, and helpless. How long can one survive in a war zone? How long can the desperate leech off of the world around them before it turns and betrays them? How long can one go in solitude – alone?

But home was gone, now she was nameless. The name that they had given to her as a gift, she could not remember it now they were gone - that name had burned with them. Fire licking at the wound – water drowning in the sky. She knew she should have perished with them; she had not the right to remain alive. Bad luck – more than a curse. More than a blessing. Something entirely different, unexplainable but simple enough. Nasty, evil, clever, deceiving, unbelievable – like the men. Killing and manipulating, heartless and cold. They are one with metal.  

How long till the sun rises no longer? How long till the food disappears like smoke from the ruins of a long lost life? How long till the mind forgets, and the memory smoulders in annihilation? The mind is a great, powerful thing, but it is to be forgiven by the mind hard and perilous.  

Small footprints imprinted in the ground, little markings of a lost soul. They remain there forever but are never seen, invisible. Maybe that is the meaning of invisibility, or of a broken heart. No love in solitary night, no love in darkness that haunts the dreams. How long now? She stumbles and falls, sounds ripple and crackle like the leaves she has fallen upon. She cries out in pain, but no sound comes out. Or maybe it was that no-one heard her cry – did she cry out? If it was not heard then she had not shattered the silence that had barred its arms around her world. 

Walking amongst the trees, the great tall giants she played in. She could see them swaying sadly in the breeze, but she could not hear the leaves whisper or the wind sing. Yet her small footprints - the sound of them pounding like a heartbeat on the floor – told her nothing was wrong with her ears. A part of her had died with the world around her. A part of her still burned for them.

Tears fall, rain clouds gather in the sky and cry for her. A lone figure in this world of false hope, a lone figure amongst the trees.

She shrank back into the shadows, now conscious of the sounds that were beating at her, blinding her, smothering her, destroying her. She cried out in pain and anger and hurt, someone must have heard – it rang out in the forest loud and clear. She took a breath and everything came rushing back, knocking her down to the ground, the force unbearable. Tears fell, arms shook, heart trembled. All was dark, suffocating, unbreakable…until she opened her eyes…they had been closed all along. 

Shattered sobs choked her lungs, she clutched at a tree for comfort, trying to hide herself from their faces…so mangled, and dirty, so dirty and bloody. Their eyes would never close; forever they were to haunt her footsteps. 

Can one live so long with death stained upon her hands, a stench of life ruined and torched in flame? Why is it always the innocents who are left to suffer and endure the wounds that never heal? Why is the world full of pain and misery, when all one has tried to do fails – falling down and down into a deep hole where no light shines yet the darkness is afraid to touch? 

Limbo. 

State between real and imaginary, or is it life and death? 

                                                ~x~X~x~

It had been a dream. A horrible dream. A nightmare. But she could feel them, she could see them. They were beckoning to her, calling her to them, drawing her to her death. A knife was held in her hands now – but where had it come from? Should she answer the call? Should she lodge the knife in her heart and take her punishment, was it right that she remained alive when they had been drawn from their bodies by flame and steel like blood running from a wound?

So many questions, but no answers. Only more questions. 

_Watching me,_

_Wanting me,_

_I can feel you pull me down._

_Fearing you,_

_Loving you,_

_I won't let you pull me down._

She was one so young and innocent, already branded by the cruel fate of destiny – death. Though little she knew of her past, she was barely a child. Sometimes she forgot that – and so did they. 

                                                ~x~X~x~

She sighed and stood, her mind numb, her soul dirty. The girl looked down at her clothes and her hands – they were bleeding, her clothes stained with more than just dirt. So she succumbed to the weakest human emotion she had – denial. She fought her own mind and sanity, barring the thoughts of the last night from her mind. It had never happened; she had been dreaming all along – nothing but a nightmare brewed from her murky thoughts. Letting routine wash over her, she began to walk down to the river nearby, ignoring the smoke rising from the trees – it wasn't real. Just a figment of her imagination. 

The child began doing what she always managed to do – she began trying to make everything perfect. It would begin with her appearance. 

And it would end many years later – with the ultimate sacrifice. 

But she didn't know that yet. 

**A/N: Please let me know what you think – and check out my beta Isilwen's stuff because it rocks!  **


	4. Chapter Three

**Primitive Instincts **

                                            By Half Awake Warning

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings, and I never have done. I could not have created this amazing phenomenon, and I don't think I could have survived if I did. Everything belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, besides the plot and any characters that you do not recognize. 

**A/N:** In the next chapter we'll move on a little bit, and the story really begins. I just wanted to set some background before I started, and it's all done now! I won't be able to update for a few days though, as I have my maths exams this week :(. Thank you to all of my reviewers for your kind and encouraging words, you don't know of the happiness you bring me (cheesy I know! But who cares – I mean it!). Oh and please read my amazing beta Isilwen's stuff, because it just blows me away and she rules :)!  

                                                     **Chapter 3**

                            **Too Many Questions, Not Enough Answers**

"Numbers – we need numbers. How many have your scouts counted?"

"My Lord, it is hardly fair-"

"How many?" Firm like ice, the voice spoke no louder than before. But his eyes did. 

"There were too many even for our eyes to count, my Lord." 

The tension in the room grew further – if it were at all possible. Even between the five of them, they had struggled and fought throughout the night, neither of them knew how many hours had passed since the sun had fallen. 

"They attack in groups my Lord, stronger than a hundred at a time." The truth echoed through the walls, its eeriness lying in its shadow. "They bring fire," the voice continued as the figure leant forward, his face appearing from the shadows, "they bring death and destruction."

"Captain Halinan, have your scouts ascertained the whereabouts of the wild men's headquarters as of yet?"  
  


"My Lord, my men have searched the lands endlessly and with precision. Not a hair has not been overturned thorough have they been. We are no closer to finding them now than we were before."

"Then we need to search elsewhere. We cannot leave them to attack our villagers and slay anymore than they have, we must stop this."

"Perhaps we are not looking in the right place," another voice interjected. 

"But we have searched the lands, my Lord. My men do not leave a job unfinished-" the first spoke again, no longer trying to hide the anger from his voice. 

  
"Then we shall see who is right." 

"But-"

"Enough Halinan, enough. Send out your scouts, and search again. Leave no rock untouched – I want these barbarians destroyed, and soon!" The King sighed, 'twas no easy job. 

She couldn't sleep, again. Days flooded into nights, weeks passed without a trace. Or had it been only minutes? She'd lost all trace, but it did not matter; she did not care. What was the point in counting time if you had no one to share it with, no one beside you. She felt alone, and empty. What was she to do?

A small shelter had been built up in the trees; her small fingers had managed to craft a structure that kept a little of the warmth in, but none of the cold out. Still, it was better than nothing. It was more important that it hid the eyes of those that had lost their lives, they still haunted her, and they weren't fading like the memories were. 

A small squeak broke through her barrier of thoughts; she opened her eyes and picked up her only friend left in the world. He wasn't doing so well, even she was forced to admit it. He looked up at her bleakly, hope painted in his eyes. His wounds hadn't healed as well as she'd hoped, although they were slowly getting better. Neither of them had eaten since that fateful night, both aware that they were in need of food soon, or they would both perish like the others had done. 

She hugged him tight to her body, trying to give a little of her warmth to him. It was dark outside; she didn't want to face the horror. But she would do it, for him.

"I'll get you food, don't worry. I'll do something," she promised, stroking his bony body. She couldn't help but let a tear fall, what if she found no food? What if she was the first to go and he was left all alone in the world? What if he wandered around in the night, searching for food that he couldn't find – what if he got caught by a big animal that was also hungry? What if-

Many questions ran through her mind – so many questions, she had those – but what about the answers? They always eluded her. 

She placed the creature gently in her pocket, and carefully climbed down the tree, her eyes growing accustomed to the absence of light. There was little she could do besides stumble and crawl, trying to find her way back home, to grab whatever she could before they came back. 

The wind howled whipping and striking at her unprotected face, stinging her eyes. It threw her hair in her face, and she stumbled as it knocked against her weak knees, she shivered as the cold hit her. The light from the moon up above was the only friendly face in this different world of hidden monsters and twisted creatures from the shadows. But above the noise, she could hear her only friend's cry for food, and it drove her on into the danger. She didn't want to be responsible for his death as well. 

A little later she could feel the difference in the world around her, as if something had infected it, ruined it, destroyed it. She knew she was back home, the air stank of death, and she could hear the screams in the wind that swam around her ears, screams that had ceased to end in their own nightmare.

She tried to distinguish between the remains of the homes, looking for her own, but it was impossible. They were all the same, they were all dead. She could see the corpses lying on the floor, some huddled together in their last moments, others clutching to precious things. Some had been piled on top of each other, small wisps of smoke snaked their way up towards the sky and out of reach. The smell overwhelmed her lungs, she tried not to stare at their faces, but in the horror of it all, she couldn't help but be compelled to see if she could recognize their faces. Her stomach churned, but she wouldn't give in. She wouldn't break the contact between their staring eyes. 

Her feet crunched on the ash ridden ground, breaking the silence that had descended over her, smothering like a blanket. She couldn't stay much longer; it was as if the cause of their death was infecting her, and that soon she would too suffer their fate. She searched through what she could, looking for anything, everything that could help. She rummaged through the rubbish, lifting everything she could. The eyes never left her back, she felt dirty and guilty, this was their graveyard, their remembrance, and she was taking from it anything she could for herself so that she could live on. 

She fell down of frustration, tears lining her face – was anyone looking out for her? Did no one care if she lived? Was she truly all alone now – her punishment to live out the rest of her life in the shadows? Sobs wracked her body, she wished for comfort, for arms to make it all better again, like they used to. She shook in the cold; didn't they always promise that nothing bad would ever happen to her? 

All that she wanted was to join them, to fly over the clouds when the sun always shone down on the world, never letting evil succumb to hurt. A place where no one was alone, where everyone was happy and life was perfect. 

There was just one problem – it wasn't possible. There was no point in wishing for what would never happen – dreams don't come true, promises are never kept. 

_The world is spinning around again; I'm loosing all control again._

_Is no one there to save me, will no one stop this hurt?_

_How can I be strong after all I've seen? _

_Life is a journey, but I wish too see no more,_

_I long only for the peace in my dreams, _

_To go through this hell and lock all the doors.___

_Why don't you stop it, why won't you send it away?_

_Can no one help me see through this day?_

And so she cried, huddled in a small ball in the centre of where her life had ended. She didn't even know who she was anymore, why she was even alive. But she didn't hope to see the next day, or the one after. She was afraid and weak, no one to hold her hand and protect her from all the danger. 

She didn't hear the footsteps in the distance, the pounding of feet that beat like a heartbeat through the forest as they got closer. She was lying next to a sword, one that she couldn't remember finding. She was going to take her own life to end the suffering, but a hand that she hadn't felt or seen wouldn't let her. Her only source of peace, but she wasn't allowed to take that road. 

Footsteps drew closer; the night was far from over. New light shone in the darkness, ending all of her fear and doubts. She opened her eyes, and for the first time felt like something was right with the world.__


End file.
